


forget me (not)

by lexa_lives_in_us



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Character Death, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), beauyasha - Freeform, episode 103 related, i woke up and wrote it, i'm gay and they make me gayer, idk what this is, spoiler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexa_lives_in_us/pseuds/lexa_lives_in_us
Summary: Yasha loses her memory.But some faces carry feelings.orI woke up with a thought based on a tumblr post by defira85 and I had to write it. SPOILERS 2x103
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 202





	forget me (not)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even re-read it, y'all. It's probably just chaos, I was half asleep still. Enjoy.

**forget me (not)**

She’s supposed to remember.

There is something missing. She feels like she’s waking up from a slumber and she’s trying to grab and hold the details of what she’s dreamed, but the faces fall away. The details blur and disappear, and she’s left with only a feeling.

Or many feelings, clashing and fighting against each other.

In a way, not remembering feels almost... freeing. But only for a brief moment.

She knows who she is, or who she’s supposed to be.

She knows her name, she knows bits of her past. A past filled with battles and rage and blood. That certainty of her life is almost unsettling.

How can she forget the beautiful things that must have happened to her, but remember the awful ones?

She looks around, mouth agape, trying to grasp from the people around her more details about her life.

They look at her with concern and care, and there is love in their eyes, and the dream starts to paint itself again.

“I’m... Yasha. I don’t know my parents, but I don’t know if I did...” she says, almost hesitating.

“Yeah, that tracks.” The low voice of a woman says. “You didn’t really.”

Yasha turns to look at her. 

She has striking features, almost as striking as her punch, if her body is anything to go by. She has piercing blue eyes, a bruise on her beautiful face and blue robes. Looking at her is like looking at a very specific feeling, and Yasha has to avert her eyes for a moment. Only for a moment. 

She’s sitting with her hands clasped in front of her face, her elbows on her knees, very matter-of-factly.

Their eyes meet

“Do you remember the name of your wife?”

The question makes her heart skip a beat.

Her wife. She has a wife.

She briefly look around, trying to grasp whether or not her wife is sitting there, trying to figure out something from the people looking at her.

But she knows already, that if anyone is giving off the feeling of a wife, that person is...

“Is it Beauregard?” She asks, quietly. 

She looks down, and misses entirely the collective holding of breaths that goes around the room, or the way the beautiful woman clenches her hands, the way her jaw falls slack.

Yasha frowns, shaking her head.

There are images in her mind. There is the woman in front of her and another woman. They look similar, and they’re completely different.

And there’s another name.

“No. It’s Zuala.” She says again, with a little more certainty. She flinches, like the effort to remember is bringing her pain.

“I think... I think it’s Zuala.” She finally says, looking up.

The group is staring between Yasha and the woman in front of her. The same woman whose gaze has turned gentle, and whose lips have curled in a soft, content smile.

The woman nods.

“It’s Zuala.”

Yasha bites her lower lip, unsure whether or not she should ask the next question.

Eventually, she can’t hold herself anymore.

“Is... is it you?” She asks.

This time, the group gasps audibly, and Yasha looks at all of them in confusion before turning again to look at the woman.

She chuckles.

“No, Yasha...” she breathes out, half relieved and half regretful. “I am Beauregard.”

Yasha looks at Beauregard and something inside of her clicks.

Zuala and Beauregard are two different people, that she knows. She now also knows how to name the other face in her memories.

She understands that they are connected, somehow.

They both move something within herself. They both emanate the same warmth, the same feeling.

She must love them both.

“It makes sense.” She murmurs, mostly to herself.

The woman named Beauregard cautiously shuffles closer to her, placing a hand on her knee.

A jarred memory of Zuala doing the same flashes in her brain for an instant.

She is sure. It is the same feeling.

“Is Zuala dead?” She asks, and she knows the answer already. Even before hearing it from the group, even before Beauregard nods with sadness.

Yasha frowns again.

“I don’t remember...” she says, and the anguish of a lifetime lost, of a love lost and of a love found, it feels her up, and she thinks she might explode.

“I don’t like this feeling.” She murmurs, looking at her friends -yes, they’re her friends!- for an answer, for a solution.

The tall, pink haired firebolg starts murmuring something to himself, and Yasha decides she can trust him.

She turns to look at Beauregard, who’s staring at her with a weird frown on her face.

“After I told you who I am, you said... It makes sense.” Beauregard wonders. “What makes sense?”

Yasha chuckles, feeling warm on her cheeks. She thinks she wouldn’t have been able to do this if she’d had all her memories, but she has nothing to lose now.

“Because you are very beautiful.” She tells her, quietly, but with a smile. “You seem very smart, too. You probably have a lover of your own already.”

Beau chortles.

She full on snorts and starts laughing, but Yasha sees incredulity and vulnerability in the way Beauregard retracts onto herself.

In the way she waves a hand in front of her face, as of to shield away from that conversation.

“I-No. What... No, fuck, Yasha.” Beau sputters, looking around nervously. The group is too busy talking amongst themselves to care. “Gods, no. You must’ve forgotten how much of a dumbass I am.”

Yasha tentatively reaches out. The knowledge that Beauregard does not have a lover, a partner, makes her bolder. 

She’ll regret every word once she’ll get her memories back, but for now all she wants is to build more memories, to see every expression on Beauregard’s beautiful features.

“I have forgotten many things, but I have not forgotten you.” She tells her, with a shy smile. “There must be a reason for that.”

Beauregard breath hitches, failing to hide her emotions. She shakes her head, and when she looks at her again, her eyes are full of pain.

“Yasha, you... I don’t deserve you.”

Yasha reaches for her again, and this time, Beauregard threads her fingers between hers.

“Let me decide that.” Yasha asks, pulling her closer.

Beauregard goes, and goes willingly. She lets herself be pulled closer, and they end up sitting close to one another like, Yasha knows, they must have done in another situations. Yasha wants to know when. She wants to remember it all. She wants to know about Zuala and Beauregard. She wants to know about her friends.

Yasha breathes, she tries to. But it’s hard. The tears are still threatening to come out, but the warm hand in hers somehow makes it better.

“I don’t like this feeling.” She whispers again. She wants to remember again.

She wants her life back.

Well, maybe not exactly as it was, she thinks as Beauregard looks up at her with an understanding smile.

Beauregard slips a hand on the back of her neck and presses her forehead against hers.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs, breathing in. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Yasha nods, and breathes in.

END


End file.
